


Offering

by candicame



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-21
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-04-27 10:17:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5044510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candicame/pseuds/candicame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every few years the Smiling God demands an offering.  Only one person has ever survived the ceremony.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dangersocks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dangersocks/gifts), [Jathis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jathis/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Rewards](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2359541) by [Jathis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jathis/pseuds/Jathis). 



Earl jumped when he felt the hand land on his shoulder. He knew it was coming, and yet he hadn't moved fast enough to prevent his capture. The laptop still lay open, propped up on a pillow on his bare lap, which served a two-fold purpose, 1: preventing the burns that could have easily resulted from the intense heat on his bare skin and 2: steadfastly not breaking the weekend's 'no clothing' rule, but still hiding his obvious erection from anyone who /happened/ to come home. Thankfully, the deep, sonorous voice on the radio continued uninterrupted, so he was able to accurately guess that he hadn't brought an archaic punishment upon himself. His master was still at work, and the hand tightening around his shoulder belonged to another of his master's beloved pets.

 

“When master told me to let you out of your cage,” the smile was evident in Carlos's voice, “I assumed you would be /in/ a cage, slut.”

 

Earl tried, and failed, to suppress a shudder. Carlos was wasted as a sub. He had an enthusiastic voice, and threw himself, fully, into whatever he was doing. And when he concentrated on chiding, or commanding, it solidified into a dominating /presence/ that sent an electric jolt down Earl's spine and settled in his dick, which thankfully, was still hidden so he didn't see it twitch.

 

“I... let myself out,” He proclaimed with as much matter-of-fact-ness as he could muster. As if it were an explanation, rather than a defiance.

 

“Were you supposed to?” Carlos asked, releasing his shoulder, and walking around the couch to join him.

 

Earl blushed and refused to meet his eye.

 

“He's omnipotent,” Carlos pouted, “You're going to get us /both/ in trouble.”

 

Earl snickered.

 

“Stop,” Carlos commanded, “/You/ might like it when he's mad but /I/ don't.”

 

Earl finally jerked his eyes up, though they didn't make it all the way to his fellow pet's face before he found the ammunition he needed.

 

“Well /you're/ wearing clothes in the house, so” he shrugged.

 

“I /just/ got back from work!”

 

“You're still breaking the rules, you... hmmm...” he titled his head in thought, “I'm not sure actually. Either you're a /hypocrite/ for judging me, or you're a /liar/ who actually /does/ like the punishment.”

 

“...shut up,” Carlos stomped off, toward the kitchen, and Earl giggled.

 

“Don't be mad!” he called after him, and after much internal debate, he slid the computer, and the pillow off to follow him.

 

“I'm not mad,” Carlos looked up when he entered, but then went back to pouring himself a glass of orange milk, “I'm a sore loser.” He pulled a bottle out of one of the many deep pockets lining his lab coat and shook three yellow pills into his hand. He caught Earl's judgmental stare and felt his cheeks heating up. “I, um... I think I finally got the chemical formula right. To kind of replicate the effect of,”

 

“Is it safe?” Earl cut him off, arms crossed and face full of concern.

 

“It's a recreational drug,” Carlos shrugged, and stuffed them in his mouth, “That I reverse engineered from a sample I got from a /lunatic/.” He paused and took a long drink to swallow them down, “So... no? Probably not?”

 

“Gods, Carlos, you're one lab accident away from becoming a super villain.”

 

“Maybe,” Carlos agreed, sliding up to him. He let his hands fall to grasp Earl by the hips and pull him close, “But... I'm not as good at this as you are. I need a little help. You're perfect. I'm... jealous.”

 

“Jealous?” Earl played with the lapels of his lab coat before sliding his hands up to gently tug at the o-ring of Carlos's collar, “Did you wear this to work?”

 

“Um... yes? To both?”

 

“That's so cute” Earl smiled and slid his hands back down, coming to rest at the small of Carlos's back, pushing up under his shirt to linger on the flesh, “Why are you jealous?”

 

“Um...” Carlos's flesh was burning, and Earl pushed the fabric of his shirt up, exposing his stomach, as he pressed a gentle kiss to his jawline.

 

“Would it be easier to talk about downstairs?”

 

Carlos nodded and let his eyes jerk back to the living room, so as to not have to meet Earl's gaze, “Hey what were you looking at, anyway?”

 

“Bring it with us and I'll show you,” Earl had moved his hands to pull Carlos's hair free from the bun he had it up in. He slid the tye around his wrist and dug his fingers through the strands, and /pulled/. Carlos jerked him closer and moaned, “What did he tell you to do with me?”

 

“We're just supposed to kind of,” Carlos gasped, trying to force his brain to work properly, “Relax. He's bringing dinner after work but... since we've /both/ broken rules, we'll probably have to earn it.”

 

“Then maybe we should use our down time to /practice/.”

 

Carlos's reply came in a high-pitched 'mm-hm'. “But I kinda want to try out the... sensory... meditation... thing.”

 

“Now?” Earl chuckled.

 

“Well that's what it's for, right?” Carlos had pulled him so close that his hands had slid off his hips and up his back.

 

“It's for /lots/ of things, and most of them /ritualistic/, but... that actually might be a really good way to teach you about sub-space,” Earl agreed.

 

“Let me leave Cece-”

 

“Master,” Earl purred, kissing down his neck.

 

“Let me leave master something telling him we're down there,” Carlos said, though he didn't try to pull away at all.

 

“There's no need. He knows. He's watching us right now.”

 

“We're gonna get in so much trouble...”

 

“We're /already/ in trouble. Let's earn it.”

 

“That's a terrible attitude,” Carlos pouted, “We need to /try/ to redeem ourselves.”

 

“You're such a good pet,” Earl pulled away and took his hand, “Come on then. Let's do as we were told and go /relax/.”

 

Carlos's eyes were beginning to cloud over as he nodded.

 

* * *

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cecil comes home and we find out why this weekend is special.

Cecil was carrying far more than take-out when he finally made it home after his broadcasts. They had done quite a bit of planing for this event together, but Cecil... it wasn't that he didn't /trust/ them... wait yes it was. It was exactly that he didn't trust them. In fact, as he spread out the vision from his second sight, he scowled, and made his way to the basement, towards /exactly what he knew would happen/. He quickly but carefully sat his bags down by the pile of pillows, matrasses and blankets, dutifully closed and locked the basement door, and threw open the hatch to their /newest/ addition, a sensory deprecation tank.

 

“ **Carlos** ,” he fought to keep his voice even and neutral, “ **Let him go**.”

 

Earl was lying on his back on the /giant/ pile of lavender-scented Epsom salts, which meant that they hadn't even bothered to fill the tank with water, twitching and squirming, his hands hanging limply off Carlos's forearms in what could have been seen as an /attempt/ to pry them away. Such an attempt would make sense, because Carlos's hands were securely, tightly, wrapped around Earl's throat.

 

At the command of the voice however, he release his prey immediately and scooted back, then turned to face Cecil with his head bowed, back straight, legs slightly spread. Earl took in a huge breath of fresh, lavender-scented air, coughed, rubbed his throat, and whined.

 

“What the /hell/, Carlos!?” He growled, glaring at the other man, as if his actions were inexcusable, “Why'd you stop? I was almost there!”

 

“Master told me to /stop/,” Carlos snapped, poison in his voice that Cecil hadn't heard in... two years to the day. “Why don't you /listen/? You're /supposed/ to be training for the ritual. How do you expect to /last/? To /survive/ if you won't /listen/?” He was visibly angry, fists clenched on his knees, glaring at his boyfriend- no, Cecil corrected his observation, glaring at /the offering/.

 

“ **Carlos** ,” Cecil climbed into the tank and took his face in both hands, “ **There is not going to be a sacrifice. You have a new job now. You have to protect Earl, and by extension all of us, from the smiling god. I want you to remember where you are. You're in our house. We love Earl and are not going to sacrifice him to the smiling god. You are going to take a little rest, and when you wake up, you won't remember this conversation, but you will remember that you are /safe/, and you are /loved/. Go to sleep.** ” And as Carlos's form became limp he gently lowered him on to the salt. “That can't be comfortable... you're supposed to run the water...”

 

“Didn't want to waste it. Well,” Earl shrugged and corrected, “Didn't want to waste the salt,” he ran one hand through it as he sat up, using the other to rub his neck. His voice was horse, injured. Cecil frowned.

 

“Let's get you something to drink,” Cecil offered, climbing through the hatch and offering Earl his hand.

 

“He's fine, you know,” Earl dusted several stray salt crystals from his flesh, where they had become embedded during the 'relaxation' time he had shared with Carlos. He took the soda Cecil offered and sipped, “He didn't hurt me. He didn't even /want/ to hurt me.”

 

Cecil was only half paying attention. He had knelt by the string of discarded clothes and was going through Carlos's pockets. He pulled out a small orange bottle and his hand shook as he brought it close to his face to study it's contents. After a period of observation that went on far longer than Earl deemed necessary he finally spoke.

 

“Why?”

 

“He says that he needs them. Part of it is a sedative or something,” he shrugged, “I don't know.” He walked to the cushions and sat down, pulling a blanket around his shoulders and over his lap. “This is... how /long/ is this going to happen? Are we just going to have some weird... /cycle/ thing that just /happens/ every two years for the rest of our lives?” He ran his hands through his hair, “Kevin... Kevin said that the smiling god /liked/ me.”

 

“Not as much as I like you,” Cecil assured him. He came to sit next to him, and dug through the bags, “Earl I told you to stay down here for a /reason/. We need to keep you out of the sunlight. Even through the windows. You know that.”

 

“It's not that strong, Cece, I can manage it.”

 

“/Earl/,” Cecil chided.

 

“I can. I can handle it. ...we might not be able to handle it together...” he admitted, curling further up in the blanket. He glanced up at Cecil before laying with his head in his lap, curled in on himself, facing Cecil's stomach.

 

“Until this is over you Stay. In. The. Playroom.” Cecil's voice deepened, not quite to Voice levels, but deep enough to make Earl shudder. He carefully unpacked their dinner as he spoke, and picked up a piece of chicken. He dipped it in the sweet & sour sauce and held it to Earl's lips, “/Open/.” Earl obeyed, and while he chewed, Cecil leaned back, only half-paying attention to the computer beside him as he opened it and searched for something to watch, “I'm not playing around, slut. You stay down here. When I'm finished eating I'm doing a blood ritual on the door and neither of you will be able to get out. That isn't your punishment. That's just practical. I haven't thought of your punishment yet.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y0u're g0nna feel s0 s0rry f0r Early this chapter

Cecil had propped himself up on the pillows facing the tank so he could keep watch over the door for when Carlos would eventually emerge. In the short time he had been asleep, Cecil had managed to accomplish quite a bit, /but/ he hadn't quite gotten around to performing the blood ritual on the basement door that he had promised, because he had let himself get... distracted.

 

Earl took priority. He was the one that had been chosen by the smiling god, and the one that was the most affected by the anniversary of the ritual. He absolutely couldn't be trusted to make his own decisions, which is why Cecil had stopped by the hardware store to pick up some very strong ropes. They were /meant/ for livestock, but seemed to be doing a perfectly fine job keeping Earl occupied. Cecil had tied a beautiful and intricate pattern across his torso, which held his arms at his sides to the elbow, and then ran the length of his forearms, forcing them to cross behind his back. This meant that Earl had to maintain /some/ form of concentration, instead of letting his mind go completely, because he didn't have his arms for balance, and in his current situation, he /needed/ to be able to keep his balance.

 

He was currently bouncing in Cecil's lap, panting around the ball gag that had been forced between his lips, as his lover slowly, /painfully/ slowly, thrust up into him. He was going mad. Every time he would /try/ to speed up, to quicken the pace, Cecil would take his hips and hold him, force him completely still. Cecil, for his part, was absolutely amazed at the stamina his poor boyfriend was showing, especially since he /had/ to be rubbed raw, which is why he insisted on the slow, gentle pace, not because he was intent on torturing him. He had found them locked in a tank, lying on /salt/, with no lube, being choked to death. It was a wonder he was still as eager as he was. Even as he let his mind occupy him with these thoughts, he found himself reaching out to hold Earl still /again/, as he whined in protest.

 

“Be patient, my sweet pet,” Cecil leaned forward to kiss the back of Earl's neck, “Patience is a virtue.” He held him still with one hand and ran the other in soothing circles down his lover's back.

 

The door to the sensory deprivation tank swung open with an audible CLANG. Carlos grabbed for it, trying to slow it before it reached the side, but he seemed disoriented and wasn't fast enough. He stumbled out and almost fell face-first on the playroom floor, but steadied himself with one outstretched hand while the other shot to his temples, rubbing them as if trying to block out the sound. He looked pained, annoyed, and confused as he let himself fall gently to his knees to search the ground of the pile of clothes that Earl had helped him shed. He found his lab-coat and pulled out his glasses, but the worried look didn't lesson as he continued frantically digging through the pockets.

 

Cecil sighed, held Earl's restrained arms with one hand, and reached beside him with the other, and jingled the pill bottle to get Carlos's attention.

 

“Looking for this?”

 

“Oh,” Carlos smiled, and Cecil fought the urge to melt, “Look at /you/.”

 

Earl tried to call out to him behind the gag, and from practiced listening, Carlos recognized his own name and obeyed without standing, crawling to the mattress to join them. He rose to his knees and took Earl's face in both hands, planting a sweet kiss on the gag, before Cecil reached around and jerked him by the collar.

 

“No. You're in trouble.” His master guided him roughly to the side, “sit down.”

 

“I'm in trouble?” Carlos quivered, and quickly took the position he knew his master liked, back straight, hands on his thighs, legs slightly spread, and looking at him, his earnest fear, made Cecil's heart break.

 

“You're not bad,” He assured his good pet, reaching out with his free hand to stroke the side of his face, “But you had a relapse. You see these pretty purple bruises around Earl's neck?” Carlos shot his eyes to Earl, who was impatiently squirming, “I know he asked for them. And you were just trying to help. But Earl is not thinking clearly right now, and we have to help him, sometimes, by denying him. Do you understand?”

 

Carlos did not understand. Every since they escaped Ma- /Kevin/, ever since they escaped /Kevin/, it had been /very/ important to talk, and to make sure the Offe- Earl, and Cecil, everyone involved, got exactly what they wanted. He wasn't /supposed/ to deny things, or to do anything that wasn't asked for and agreed on. He hadn't... he hadn't done anything bad. He met Cecil's eyes and really, /really/ wanted to understand. He didn't want to be in trouble. But he /didn't/. So he shook his head.

 

Cecil sighed, and jerked the restraints to keep Earl /still/ for a minute, and picked up the pills again, “Why do you have these? Where did you get them?”

 

“I made them. I made them because I thought, with the anniversary coming up, I could stand to be a little more... suggestible. They keep me from thinking. I don't...” he averted his eyes, “I don't want to think about it.”

 

“Carlos...” Cecil sighed, “It's /dangerous/. Are you sure you know what you're doing?”

 

“It just makes me... floaty. Kind of /numb/. Not physically, intellectually. It makes me easier for you to control.” Carlos confessed, “I don't want to... I don't want to have to think this weekend, Cecil. I don't. I don't want to be in control. I want to... defer to someone else. Someone who won't hurt me. Someone who loves me. /Really/ loves me. Not with that blinding light and false joy but...” he met Cecil's eyes again, deep, needy, pleading, “Please?”

 

Earl, who was beginning to feel ignored and was /beyond/ frustrated, whined behind his gag again, and Cecil tightened his hold on the ropes.

 

“Patience,” he reminded him, and then turned back to Carlos, “You're not going to hurt yourself? You had a hard time... coming down last time.”

 

“My orders were a little more... they were /different/, last time.” Carlos explained, “You're not Kevin.” he paused, then added, “I don't even think Kevin is Kevin. Please?”

 

Cecil sighed, looked at the pills and finally acquiesced, “Fine. But I'm /watching/ you.”

 

Carlos shuddered in joy at the words and Cecil smiled.

 

“So can I have” he began but Cecil cut him off.

 

“No, you can eat your lo-main. You haven't eaten anything today. And then you can have /three/, at the most, and /then/ maybe you can think of a way to make those bruises up to Early.” he smiled at the man on his lap.

 

That was fair. Carlos nodded and reached for the takeout container. He settled back on the pillows to watch them as Cecil /finally/ let his poor prey go back to bouncing. Carlos took a sip from the cup next to his food and made a face as the soda /burned/. It was mostly rum.

 

“Sorry, that one's,” Cecil hissed in pleasure, “Mine. There's a straight coke there,” he paused again as Earl ground down against him, “/somewhere/.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah so I've been reading Jathis's "Master Kevin" and "Dirty Boyfriends" series, and the whole amalgam of fanfics that they inspired and I couldn't get this idea out of my head because I've been weirdly obsessed with meditation chambers for the past little bit. ANYWAY if they ask me to take it down I totally will because this is a weird one or two chapter little diversion while I work on my child universe anyway. It's not meant to be anything like, major.


End file.
